The Times They Are A'Changin'...

"An extra yawn one morning in the springtime,

an extra snooze one night in the autumn

is all that we ask in return for dazzling gifts.

We borrow an hour one night in April;

we pay it back with golden interest 

five months later."

~ Winston Churchill ~

Thanks to ol' Benjamin Franklin, I get an extra hour of sleep tonight. The problem is, I don't need it tonight. I needed it three nights ago.

Wednesday night my sleep was continually interrupted by the snoring declarations of my congested husband competing with blustering wind gusts of biblical proportions. Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating, but they were AT LEAST Wizard of Oz proportions. I eventually dozed off about 2 a.m., only to be rudely awakened by a loud crash on my deck. When I looked out the window, I discovered that our patio table had been blown over. Glass was shattered all over our deck. I looked up just in time to catch Toto flying by...

At that point, I just gave up.  I got out of bed, fixed myself a hot cup of tea and plopped down in my recliner to do some pondering.

Unfortunately, I happen to be one of those wacky people who ponders about a bazillion things all at once. Thoughts flit in and out of my consciousness like a twisted string of twinkle lights, going off like tiny explosions. The derailed dialog of my jumbled train of thoughts went something like this:

Man, those winds are horrible! This is how it must feel to be in a hurricane, except without all the water. If I had been in Hurricane Katrina, I would have totally climbed on top of my roof. I must remember to put an ax in the attic in case I ever need to be rescued.  I remember hearing one of the Cowsills drowned during Katrina. Horrible. I wonder if it was the one I had the crush on? Barry? Paul? Whichever one used to sing Indian Lake.  I used to get all tingle-toed every time I heard that song. Now it just makes me sad because, you know... lake/water/drowning. The Partridge Family was written about the Cowsills. I always wondered why Shirley Partridge didn't marry Eddie's Father. They should've cast Shirley as the girlfriend on The Courtship of Eddie's Father because dang it, Eddie needed a mommy! I also had a crush on Eddie's father but I was way too young for Bill Bixby.  Back in those days, I was still perfecting my kissing technique.  I practiced on my pillow and sometimes on my hand because, well... skin. I wasn't sure what I was doing, but I knew enough to follow the KISS acronym --- Keep It Simple Stupid. Which I later found to be a complete waste of time unless you're kissing your grandparents.  The Dickman certainly didn't believe in simple kisses. Crystal Blue Persuasion... that was my all-time favorite make-out song in high school. I'm hungry! What can I eat that is not a carb??? Peanuts! I used to love to put peanuts in my Dr. Pepper bottles. Pry off the bottle cap, pour in a cylinder of salted peanuts, put the cap back on and punch a hole in it with an ice pick. Then I would lay on the floor and sip on my salty Dr. Pepper while watching Gunsmoke with Mom and Dad. Man, that Miss Kitty sure knew how to work her wiles on the Marshall!  I learned a lot from Miss Kitty.  It always bothered me that Festus walked with such a bad limp. Hmmmm... I wonder if Festus is the reason I became a PT? I think I could help him with that Trendelenberg gait of his.  Is Festus even still alive? My brother dressed up as Festus for Halloween one year. Or was it Daniel Boone? Daniel Boone was a man, was a Big Man; and he fought for America to make all Americans free. Where's Daniel Boone when we need him? Today, all the little munchkins dress up like slashers or even scarier - politicians.  The debate sucked. I really don't like Talking Heads with Bad Hair. Snoopy must feel the exact same way when he listens to Charlie Brown. I would rather watch a dance-off between the candidates.  Yeah, that would be great!  Whoever does the best Moonwalk wins the nomination.  I would also take into consideration anybody ballsy enough to give the Donald a noogie, though I don't hate his proposal to build a wall around Texas because, you know... vampires. Which reminds me, I need to buy some candy.

I finally wore my brain out and woke up Thursday morning all fuzzy headed and fatigued. I spent the whole day yawning in everybody's face. (Which is really attractive. Especially when you're too tired to brush your teeth.)

Anyhoo... the point of all of this is just to say: Daylight Savings Time is stupid, y'all. And the only way it will ever make sense is if the Powers That Be can figure out a way to establish a time bank where we can literally deposit or withdraw our personal hours of time.

Furthermore... We The People should be allowed to decide precisely which hour(s) we want to subtract from our life and which hour(s) we choose to spend more wisely.

For example, I would really like to subtract the hour I spent watching Caitlyn Jenner determine the best way to duct tape her junk so she wouldn't look all bumpy in a one-piece swimsuit. I mean, I feel for you Caitlyn... I really do. And I sincerely hope you find the peace you are seeking (along with the balance necessary to walk in heels).  But I don't need to spend any more time picking up what you are laying down. Capeesh?

There are other hours that I would like to erase... hours that resulted in pain and sadness; hours that could have been, should have been spent dispensing love and kindness rather than anger and judgement.

As for that extra hour of time... ah, let me count the ways! Without hesitation, I would cash in those extra hours for more time with my Daddy and my Grandmother Flodie, and others who ran out of hours before I was ready.  I would spend that extra time just sitting by their side... resting my head on their shoulder... breathing them in... showing them pictures of my grandbabies and doing anything to make them laugh. Oh, to hear their laughter and have another chance to trace the lines of their face until they were memorized in my soul! Because this time I would realize how quickly those memories fade away...

If I had any time left over, I would go back and tuck my little boys into bed one more time... whispering words of thanksgiving into their ears for all the wonderful ways they will bless my life.

Now that would more than compensate for all the time I've lost sitting in the Dairy Queen drive-through or waiting on 'hold' with my homeowners insurance.

The truth is, no matter how many times we set and reset our clocks, there really are no do-overs. And regardless of whether we fall back or spring forward, there are only 24 hours in a day. (This will be proven tomorrow when the analog clock on my Buick will once again be right, by the way.)

Time is an illusion, no matter what the government or Ben Franklin might have you believe. 

Ben Franklin is not the boss of me.

Heck, I'm not even the boss of me. I'm a 58 year old menopausal woman... I can't even control my own bladder.

All I'm in control of is changing the time on my clocks.  And I can't even do that without an instruction manual.

What I CAN do is choose to make a conscious effort to make every hour of every day count.  To find divine purpose amid the frustrations and brokenness of this crazy, happy, heart-breakingly beautiful world. To live my life without regrets for misspent hours and wasted time. 

I'm pretty sure the Lord laughs (politely, of course) at our feeble attempts to add and subtract from the days He has given us.  I doubt he even owns a watch.  But that's okay.  

Because He is my God and my time is in His hands...

PSALMS 31:14-15